Reverse Culture Shock?

I didn't really experience reverse culture shock coming back after our year in the Netherlands. But what reverse culture shock I did encounter struck before we even set foot in the U.S. Walking to our transfer gate in Reykjavik, I knew immediately when I was back among The Americans.  First clues: flip-flops, abundant iPads, and the startling realization that I could eavesdrop on conversations again.

So when we landed, I started to keep a list of what seemed most striking about life in the U.S.  For example:

• Pick-up trucks 
• Free and ample tap water at restaurants
• Doggy bags
• Maple syrup
• Panhandling
• Passing in the right lane
• Prices exclusive of sales tax and gratuity (drat it, rusty math skills!)

Then there were the more qualitative differences, like how friendly (whether real or fake) clerks are in stores; the feeling of decision fatigue as soon as you set foot in a Target; and the quality of the roads (way better in western Europe). 

But now we are in the NW and, frankly, working through yet another round of culture shock. Looking at the list I wrote two months ago in DC, some of it simply doesn't apply anymore. Take "diversity," of which there's not - sadly - much in Portland. Or "people are more fashionable" - here in Portland we're just as bad as the Dutch. I guess this only reaffirms my earlier conclusion: Portland is just like the Hague, except with way more iPads.

Land of Cuisine-ary Opportunities

Back in Europe, many of our friends insisted that the U.S. has no food culture, no cuisine.  I beg to differ.  In fact, there is only one sense in which I will concede they were right: America doesn't have a cuisine, it has cuisines.

From the crab cakes of the Chesapeake to the unparalleled flavor of wild NW salmon, our cross-country drive last October was in large part a culinary sampling of the United States. Often we relied on the advice of our local foodie friends, like Alithea in Austin and Jason in San Francisco. In the vast in-between parts of the country, however, our primary map was Roadfood, a down-home food guide compiled by Jane & Michael Stern.

Calling it out at the Beacon Drive-In

Roadfood took us to the Beacon Drive-In in Spartansburg, South Carolina, with orange formica booths, pulled-pork sandwiches, gallons of sweet tea, and colorful order "callers" ("And make that hot, hot, hot ... like me.").  There were stops at Marvin's for fried chicken in Montgomery and the Wheel Inn outside of Los Angeles for real roast turkey and mashed potatoes.  And of course, while in California, we made the mandatory pilgrimage to In & Out Burgers (slightly disappointing, but then again it was 10:30 in the morning).

The Chiles of New Mexico

Several of our food adventures merit special mention.  The biggest eye-opener of the trip: New Mexican cuisine. Neither Jeff nor I had previously understood that New Mexico has its own unique style of cooking, based heavily on New Mexican red and green chilies. Unfortunately, we only had one real meal in New Mexico, at Nopalito's in Las Cruces (310 S. Mesquite St.).  I also unfortunately lack the vocabulary to describe what made this so good. Think Tex-Mex for the general contours, but with fresh house-made ingredients, intense and complex flavors, and the gentle heat of the smoked chilies permeating throughout.

Moving Adventures: I'm a DMV Dropout

Once upon a time (a long time ago), I passed the Oregon DMV's driving test and got my very first driver's license.  This fact was good enough for the Commonwealth of Virginia, which simply exchanged my Oregon license for a Virginia one, no questions asked.  The Commonwealth of Massachusetts and the District of Columbia were similarly trusting of my driving skillz.  But the fact that I originally took my driving test in Oregon was not good enough, it turns out, for the State of Oregon.

I know for a fact (because I saw it) that I am still in the Oregon DMV's database, complete with a rather cherubic picture of me at 15. Regardless, when I went last week to get my shiny new Oregon driver's license, I was informed that I would have to re-take the knowledge portion of the driving test. All I had to do, they told me, was get 27 questions out of 35 right - not a big deal. Until I saw the questions.

Some of the questions are obvious: you should come to a full stop at a stop sign; don't wear headphones while driving; move over for emergency vehicles.

Some of them involve admittedly important information, like the legal limit for blood alcohol levels or that, at least in the wild west, you can turn left at a red light from a two-way street onto a one-way street (not that I would do this - but at least now I won't flip out if other people do).

But then there are questions like:

• Your car breaks down on the freeway. You can pull over to the side of the road and turn on your hazard lights if you can be seen from behind by what amount of distance? (Answer: 200 feet)
• What is the greatest cause of accidents involving motorcycles? (Answer: Turning left in front of an oncoming motorcycle)
• You are on a country road, following someone on horseback, and that person waves at you with their left arm. What does this mean? (Answer: I still have no frickin clue)
• You are behind a vehicle, like a tractor, with a slow-moving vehicle sign. What is the greatest speed such a vehicle is capable of achieving? (WARNING: The answer to this question is not in the Oregon driver's manual)

Needless to say, I failed.  When I reached the very last question, with 26 right and 7 wrong, I did not know that slow-moving vehicles can go - not 15 mph, not 25 mph - but 20 mph. To put this into perspective, I haven't failed a test since advanced algebra sophomore year of high school. I was, shall we say, discombobulated.

Long story short,* I retook the test the next day and passed. But it still smarts a little. 

I will say this, though, in the Oregon DMV's favor: I am grateful they allow you to proofread your personal information before they print out your license. This is a simple and obvious concept, yet for some reason it is not a standard practice at all state DMVs. It would have prevented me from having the wrong street address in Virginia, a misspelled middle name in Massachusetts, and the wrong birth date and gender in DC.

Thank you, Oregon DMV, for making me a woman again.

* As they say, "too late."

Kiwi Sees America

I will let Kiwi illustrate how we spent October: 



As for November - well, it rained.

November also found us, inter alia:

• Apartment hunting in Portland
• Moving into a new home
• Starting a new job (me) and attending a week-long conference (Jeff)
• Wasting perfectly good weekends at Ikea
• Researching wedding venues
• Revising law review articles
• Hosting family for Thanksgiving
• Dealing with the DMV

So yes, we've been distracted.  But there's still so many stories left to tell!  I figure it's never too late. Coming up this month: stories of Poland, Germany, expatriate adventures, and the cactii of the western US.

Why the Rhine Valley Rocked

Over the course of August and September, I ended up in Germany for three different trips - to Berlin, to Munich, and to the Rhine Valley (I know, life is hard, but bear with me). Of the three, I most want to go back to Berlin - but I have to admit, contrary to my expectations, that of the three, the Rhine Valley made the best trip.

Specifically, I'm talking about the stretch of the Rhine between Cologne and Mainz, with the addition of Baden Baden at the southern end.  Perhaps it was just the change of pace from our typical city destinations, perhaps it was just the sheer variety of experiences to be had, but this is the trip I'd recommend for other first-time visitors to Germany.  Our own perfect Rhine Valley itinerary went something like this:

Step 1: Lunch at a beer hall in Cologne.  Excellent German food, excellent local Kolsch.  We also revisited Cologne's massive cathedral.

Step 2: Castles.  The hills of the Rhine Valley are covered with them, like the rocky ruins of the massive Rheinfels castle perched above St. Goar. Our favorite, though, was on the nearby Mosel River: Burg Eltz, a fairytale castle nestled in a green valley in excellent (still inhabitable) condition - although unfortunately covered in scaffolding, and therefore temporarily unphotogenic.  

Schloss Rheinfels

Step 3: Vertical diversity. Coming from the flatness of the Netherlands, the rolling ridges of the Rhine Valley are breathtaking (like a green version of the Columbia River Gorge).  Doesn't hurt that every ridge is topped with a castle, and every hollow is home to a miniature village of half-timbered houses.  Which brings us to...

Step 4: Half-timbered houses.  I didn't think places like this existed outside of Epcot Center. We stayed in Bacharach, a tiny town of narrow cobblestone streets, half-timbered houses tilting slightly with age, window boxes full of geraniums, and vineyards stretching up the hillsides.  Perhaps because the weather was not fantastic, the town was surprisingly empty - except for the national petanque tournament down along the riverfront. 

Top 10 Den Haag Experiences

For a friend's visit earlier this summer, I compiled a list of our favorite Den Haag experiences.  As we leave The Hague for more American pastures, it seems a fitting adieu to our year of going Dutch*:

1. Classic tourism, Hague-style

By which I mean, an hour in the Mauritshuis (The Hague's world-class museum), followed by a walk around the Binnenhof (the Dutch parliament buildings).

The Binnenhof. Photo Credit: Lyza D. Gardner

2. An afternoon in Delft 

Take the tram, or better yet, ride a bike down to Delft, a condensed version of all that is charming about Dutch towns: canals with narrow streets and white-railed bridges, churches with tilting towers, big squares and little squares and a thriving market on Saturdays. If the weather's nice, have a beer in the Beestenmarkt, a smaller square lined with cafes and full of Dutch people hanging out under leafy trees. No matter what, have a meal at Rossio - our most favorite restaurant in all of the Netherlands.

Beer on the Beestenmarkt

3. Scheveningen in the summer

Dozens of these temporary cafes line the beach during summer.

 The  Hague's beach along the North Sea, Scheveningen is a surprisingly popular destination for German tourists, who like to dig holes in the sand.  (Not only is this in fact a stereotype that Dutch people harbor against Germans, it also appears, based on our limited observations, to be true.) The most fun aspect of the beach scene - even more fun than watching Germans dig holes - is the seasonal bars and cafes that pop up along the sand during the summer months.  These are neither permanent structures nor make-shift encampments, but full-on restaurants with stylish outdoor lounge seating that magically appear sometime in May and then magically disappear - entirely - sometime in September.  You have to see it to believe it.

Feeling peaceful yet?

4. A tour of the Peace Palace

Andrew Carnegie's gift to the world, the Vredespalais is stunning on the outside and full of equally stunning treasures on the inside, presents from grateful countries around the world. The Palace is the seat of the UN's court, the International Court of Justice, which peacefully resolves border disputes, fishery fights, and other heated arguments between countries.  We take it for granted these days, but it if weren't for the ICJ, countries would still be going to war every year over the shifting courses of river boundaries and over-depletion of cod stocks.  Unfortunately, the Peace Palace is largely closed to the public, but if you plan in advance (or know someone who knows someone), you can schedule a tour.

5. Biking in the Wassenaar dunes

This activity combines two ultimate Dutch experiences: bikes and the sea.  An awesome bike path leads north from Scheveningen; at the top of the tallest dunes, you can look back at The Hague in the hazy distance.

(Already missing our Dutch bikes...)

6. Coffee at Zebedeus and/or ice cream at Florencia 

Florencia is an institution in The Hague, serving cheap coffee and cheaper ice cream to pensioners, motorcycle gangs, children, and everyone in between for something like 40 years.  It has the interior decoration of a smoke-filled Italian cafeteria from the 1980s, but any aesthetic doubts are quickly soothed by the 70-cent icecream cones. Based on a significant sample set ;-), I can strongly recommend the caneel (cinnamon), gember (ginger) and stroopwafel.  

Hanging out like Dutch pensioners at Florencia. 
Photo Credit: Lyza D. Gardner

As for their coffee, you're much better off going down the street to Zebedeus, which serves - we have officially concluded - the best coffee in town. Plus it's built into the side of The Hague's Grote Kerk (literally, "Big Church"), which is kind of cool. Zebedeus also has very good food - indeed, it's my favorite restaurant in The Hague.

7. Beer in the Grote Markt 

Particularly recommended for a sunny afternoon, when the square is packed with people sunning themselves.  We are particularly fond of De Zwarte Ruiter, which has an atmospheric interior for those colder, darker days of winter.

At the height of summer, the tables are twice as thick. 
Photo Credit: Lyza D. Gardner

8. An off-beat museum

If you've made it this far down the list, it's probably time for some more cultural amusements. Among The Hague's more unusual museums, I particularly like the Panorama Mesdag and the Museum Meermanno (a.k.a., the Museum of the Book). (I've previously described both here.) 

9. Shopping at the Turkish Market 

A massive open-air market that runs Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, De Haagse Markt (it's actual name) is what we call "a slice of life."  (See also my brief description here.)

10. Lunch or dinner at Simonis

Hit up the main branch of this local institution, amongst the unromantic docks of the Scheveningen port, for the freshest seafood in a no-frills setting and at surprisingly reasonable prices.  (The Dutch like a good value.)  In fact, their raw herring is so good, I had to revise my initial opinion of that ultimate Dutch delicacy.

Photo Credit: Lyza D. Gardner

 * Yes, Dutch couples really do split the bill on dates.

Looking for more Hague ideas? Check out my map of all our favorite places: Our Hague.

Endings

Transitions are always hard.  Jeff and I are in our very last days here, trying to wrap up and close down the life we have built together in The Hague.  Meanwhile the weather has suddenly turned sunny and warm, beautiful fall days that make one feel prematurely nostalgic, like you are still living in what is already the past.

As a goodbye present for someone dear to me, I picked up a collection of poems by my favorite poet, Gerard Manley Hopkins - a Victorian whose language was ahead of his times and whose love of nature was deeply spiritual.  Looking over the book, I am reminded that I don't read enough poetry.  This one, which has always been one of my favorites, feels particularly timely:

Hurrahing in Harvest

Summer ends now; now, barbarous in beauty, the stooks rise

Around; up above, what wind-walks! what lovely behaviour

Of silk-sack clouds! has wilder, wilful-wavier

Meal-drift moulded ever and melted across skies?

I walk, I lift up, I lift up heart, eyes,

Down all that glory in the heavens to glean our Saviour;

And, eyes, hearts, what looks, what lips yet gave you a

Rapturous love's greetings of realer, of rounder replies?

And the azurous hung hills are his world-wielding shoulder

Majestic--as a stallion stalwart, very-violet-sweet!--

These things, these things were here and but the beholder 

Wanting; which two when they once meet,

The heart rears wings bold and bolder,

And hurls for him, O half hurls earth for him off under his feet.

What America Does Better

OK, so the Dutch might have figured out (in order of importance) bicycling, canals, work-life balance, public transportation, international law, windows, thrift and towel warmers. I love the Dutch, and the rest of Europe is pretty awesome, too - but after a full year here, I miss mightily those things that, frankly, the U.S. just does better:

• Handicap Access: London tube system, I'm looking at you. But it's a near-universal problem. God bless the Americans with Disabilities Act.
• Asian (and Mexican) food: Not a good sign when tacos cost north of 15 euros. And never trust an all-you-can-eat sushi buffet in a region best known for its raw herring and mayonnaise.
• Target and Trader Joes: Our four-year-old guest last November, who otherwise loved Holland and Paris, was confounded by the idea of life without Target. As am I.
• Popular entertainment: No one here disputes the U.S. superiority in this particular category. But the love of American pop culture renders the constant criticism of American politics somewhat ironic. (Yes, now that you've used your beloved iPhone to tell everyone on Facebook how America should be doing more for the world, please enjoy your evening of McDonalds and Mad Men.)
• Drip coffee: For whatever reason, it's just not appreciated here. 
• Tolerance: I've mentioned Geert Wilders before, but one need only note the reactions of politicos around Europe in the aftermath of the Oslo shooting to understand how unprepared Europe still is for a truly heterogeneous society. At least in the U.S., we pride ourselves on being a melting pot, even if we're still trying to figure it out.
• Cocktails: Yes, the beer and wine are great, but sometimes you just want a kickass Sidecar.
• Netflix and Amazon: Actually, given Netflix's recent downfall, I'm re-considering our move back to the States. Drat you, Reed Hastings!

This game can also be played with "What America Gave the World."  As friend Megan wrote in a postcard last summer: "Just remember: we invented the Internet, French fries and cars. Fuck yeah." To this we could add jazz, cowboys, the personal computer, the Declaration of Independence, hip hop, Tex-Mex, the Marshall Plan, the lightbulb, and Michael Jackson. As Jeff likes to say, "You're Welcome."

Utrecht Journal: Learning to Travel Solo

This is a story about making myself proud.  

I was convinced, after pathetic days spent alone in London and Amsterdam pre-law school, that I do not travel well by myself.  This has cramped my traveling style in the years since, and also made me feel bad about myself.  But after the partial success of my Morocco challenges, I decided it was time to try again.  My self-imposed challenge: a day-trip to Utrecht, solo.

Sunday, June 26, 2011

8:58 a.m., Utrecht Central Station: Half-hour train ride passed too quickly in whirl of anxiety, both general and specific.  Stumbling onto train platform amidst flow of passengers, uncertain what to do first - go straight to the museum? Find a cafe for second breakfast?  On escalator up to the station hall, notice the lights above create a cool effect in the escalator shaft. Hesitate as escalator comes to an end.  Step back onto down-escalator while digging camera from backpack.  Spend 10 minutes riding escalator back and forth, taking pointless pictures of the light.

Note the yellow train, which I heart.

9:22 a.m., Utrecht Central Station (still): Pointless escalator picture-taking is oddly liberating.  Understand that I should head straight to the city center to find an atmospheric cafe full of university students.  Thinking what I really want is a "misto" at the Starbucks in the unremarkable train station.  Realize the power of choice is entirely in my hands.  

Gardner's Guide to Groningen

I realize that many of our most memorable experiences traveling around the Netherlands and Europe have not made it into my posts because they are, individually, not that interesting. Take, for instance, the one night and subsequent morning we spent in the northern Dutch town of Groningen during our Friesland adventures: nothing singular happened that merits writing home about, yet we liked the town very much and have great memories of exploring its compact center.  To illustrate our more typical travels, then, I've compiled a map of our several little discoveries that, taken together, made our brief time in Groningen so memorable: 


View Guide to Groningen in a larger map

To the North, Part II

Other than seeing the Wadden Sea, the primary mission of my self-directed northern adventure was to visit the rest of the Netherlands' World Heritage sites.  All five (including the Wadden Sea) are variations on the same theme: how the Dutch fought the Sea.  The five sites were, collectively, rather anti-climatic.  (Spoiler alert: the Dutch won.)

But in the right order, they do tell the arch of the defining Dutch story.  It goes something like this:

In the beginning, there was land, and there was Sea.  And then the Sea breached the land, and the land was flooded.  This was understandably frustrating to the people who thought they lived there.  (The Wadden Sea will remain permanently stuck in this stage of the story, now that it is protected as a World Heritage site.  But no one really wants to live that far north anyway.)

At first the people tried to fight the Sea by building their houses and churches on terps (mounds of earth) and constructing sea walls and sand bars.   This was not very successful. Eventually the ingenuous Dutch realized they could use windmills to pump water up and out of low-lying land.

Thus the polders were born: land drained and kept dry by orderly systems of dikes and windmills.  The very first, Beemster Polder, was drained in 1612 (!!!), and was designated a World Heritage site a mere 387 years later.  But it is a particularly difficult site to visit because - other than the pretty lines of trees and tidy grid of roads and canals - there's not really any there there.  It's like the Greenwich, CT of Amsterdam.  (This stage in the battle between the Dutch and the Sea is much better represented by Kinderdijk.)

Although great for postcards and Dutch branding, the windmills alone were not enough. Terrible floods racked the lower Delta region of the country, while the large bay of the Zuiderzee (the "Southern Sea" that in fact lay north of Amsterdam) stubbornly ate away at the interior of the country.  In the mid-1800s, the government forced the evacuation of one large island in the Zuiderzee, Schokland, having grown tired of funding the fight for such a lost cause.

Biking along the Edge of the World

Sometimes you need to go someplace just because it's there - because that black hole sitting on the edge of your mental geography goads you and it's within your power to extend the boundaries of your known universe by some small increments.  At least, that's how I felt as a fat ten-year-old trying to bike up unexplored blocks in the 'hood that were inconveniently pitched at 45-degree inclines.

That's also how I felt about the north of the Netherlands - the upper half of the country above Amsterdam which no one else seems curious about. But it's there.

It's also different.  Friesland, the northwestern province of the country, has its own language that is entirely distinct from Dutch. Indeed, Dutch was not the official language of the Netherlands until 1993.  (They might as well have skipped over Dutch entirely and gone straight to English, but that's a different essay.)  In between Amsterdam and Friesland are vast tracts of land - entire provinces - that were under water 100 years ago.  And to accentuate the far distance you can travel in an hour's drive north of Amsterdam, Frisia is replete with funny looking little ponies, so miniature that they turned a grown man (Jeff) into a cooing eight-year-old girl.

Cooooo.

It's good to remind yourself of the power you wield over your own life as a fully independent adult. I wield this power sometimes when I skip the oatmeal Jeff dutifully makes for me in the morning in lieu of a pain au chocolat at my office canteen.  Or when I start watching the movie that comes on TV at 11 pm even though it's a school night and I'm already up past my bedtime.  Similarly, I decided I really needed to see the north of the Netherlands.  So in August I rented a car and dragged Jeff along on an entirely selfish two-day northern adventure.

It did not blow me away; it was different from the rest of the Netherlands, but only as different as, say, North Carolina is from South Carolina.  But our ultimate destination did move me greatly: it felt like we were biking along the edge of the world.

Love Lock: A Story in Pictures

Once upon a time, in a land far far away (Cambridge, Massachusetts), a girl met a boy in a bar.  The fates were not aligned: He had sworn he would never date a lawyer, anyone affiliated with Harvard, or anyone under 30.  She was out celebrating her 27th birthday with her Harvard roommates before hunkering down to study for the bar, while working full-time.  

The night of their first date, Boston was shut down by a blizzard.  The night of their second date, twenty-four hours of "wintry mix" had turned the poorly drained streets around Harvard Square into ankle-deep lakes of icy slush.  For the first two months, she spent every weekend and most nights with her BarBri books.  Then she moved to DC for work.  But they persevered, through tough corporate jobs and multiple relocations. 

Last March he asked her to marry him.  This summer they decided to settle down in Portland come the fall. Before leaving Europe, they thought, wouldn't it be nice to commemorate their fortunate love?  

Enter stage left, the train bridge next to the cathedral in Cologne.

The rest of the story, in pictures, after the jump.

What's the Story, Morning Glory?

Where, oh where, has the summer gone?  Technically, it never came (at least to The Hague), but there's no time for complaining.  Our time in Europe is running short.

We move back to the States at the end of the month.  I've talked Jeff into a cross-country drive, so we should be settling into Portland by early November.

There's a lot of questions we don't know the answers to yet, but here's a few we do:

Why Portland?

My family, an excellent job opportunity, good food, and a creative techie entrepreneurial community for Jeff.  Plus it's basically like The Hague.

Won't you miss Europe?

Jeff has already entered his official mourning stage.  For my part, I prefer to assume life will bring us back this way sometime down the road.

Are you going to drive through North Dakota?

No.  We're playing it safe and taking the most southern route possible, before driving up through California.  I hear Alabama is most decidedly not like The Hague.

Any other big news?

Mmmmmm - no.

So where have you been?

Traveling, and writing about pirates.  And daydreaming about the summer that never was.

When Public Art Goes Bad

Every morning, as I bike through the center of Den Haag on my way to work, I think to myself: "WTF?!?"

Straight from Castle Grayskull

Before I go any further, I should clarify that I really like public art. I think it's important.  I think it's cool.  I come, after all, from a city where the (then-future) mayor famously exposed himself to it. Yay public art.

But The Hague has some seriously bad public art.  In fact, it's so bad that I've grown oddly attached to some of it.  I've posted some of my "favorites" after the jump.

As you'll see, Jeff has aptly named two of them (be forewarned, juvenile bathroom humor ensues).  But the other two (and the homage to Skeletor on the right) still lack names - suggestions are always welcome.